The romantic rapist
by starlit.serenity
Summary: Frodo soon learns he has no idea about social etiquette. You know, the small things. Like not sexually harassing Gollum.


"So I don't know what to do. He's not returning my calls, and when I knock on his door, he pretends he's not home. I just don't know what I did wrong."

The psychologist pressed his hands together and bent forward, looking into Frodo's eyes. "How does that make you feel?"

"Angry! I mean, the sex was phenomenal. I just don't know what I did wrong. It was my first time, and I think it was his too. It started off with him saying, 'Please, no, don't, that's my private area.' I knew he was just playing around; otherwise he would have fended me off. Well, he wouldn't have been able to, because I did tie his limbs down to the bed. But it was all in the name of love!" Frodo's eyes closed and a tear crawled out, sliding solitary down his cheek. He brushed it away with his hand, and reopened his excruciatingly shiny blue eyes. The psychologist had to look away for a moment. "Jesus, are they contacts? I think I'm blinded." Frodo took out his sword Sting and held it rather pathetically towards the psychologist. "Never! Me!? Contacts!?" He shrilled, defensively.

The psychologist wrote a few notes in his book after his vision returned. "Let us continue exploring your first sexual encounter," he said, heavily, taking a fifth glance at his watch. "How did you feel about him before you actually HAD the sexual experience?"

Frodo looked away, embarrassed. "I had liked him since the moment I met him. The first time I ever saw him, he was following our party in the mines of Moria. I knew it then, he had this, well, magnetism about him. My crotch prickled with unforeseen delight when I saw his bony body mount those stairs. Naturally, I pretended to Gandalf that I was disgusted by the very sight of him, but after that, he filled my dreams, and I thirsted for him. When we were first formally introduced, and he almost killed my companion at the time, I knew it for sure. It was love. When I held my sword to his neck, I could feel his gaze penetrating me, engaging my very hobbit soul. Later on, I dove into a pool of dead people to test his devotion, and sure enough, he rescued me. When I felt his clammy hands pulling me upwards, I came right on that dead guys face."

The psychologist hid his disgust well, his lip twitching. His memory spanned back to his last sexually deranged patient, and he found himself wishing he had brought mace with him. Or a taser.

"Later on, it was just me and him. We were on this lame excuse for a quest- by then, I didn't care about the ring, or destroying it, or whatever. We were climbing these impossibly high stairs, and by then, our annoying baggage named Sam had disappeared, and it was just us. I kept my passion for him to myself- but when we were climbing the stairs my eyes would wander under his loin cloth, and I soon started wearing lembas bread in my crotch to absorb my hobbit juice. I starved as a sacrifice."

Frodo's thoughts wandered back to that moment when he had first seen the bony, almost transparent penis of Gollum, swaying back and forth. He had nicknamed it "My preciousssss," and when Gollum hissed that in his ear when Frodo was pretending to be asleep, it gave him more wood than Gandalf's staff. By day he twirled the ring around his index finger, pretending it was the smooth entrance of Gollum's ass, slipping his finger in and out, in and out, in time with Gollum's breathing. Sauron who?

"Then he left me for a giant spider. Her name was Aragog or something. I almost died, but I didn't care. When I was wrapped up in spider yuck, all I could dream about was him. It was passionate, imagining him calling my name. Yet all this time, I kept my feelings for myself, never telling him once that I wanted to take him and his split personality to bed, and make soft and sweet, aggressive love to it for hours, simply HOURS at a time. I mean, how do you tell someone you want to bust a nut on their face?"

"I see, I see," said the psychologist half heartedly. "It can be hard to admit affection for someone when you have been blown off by people in the past."

Frodo almost lunged out of the chair. "I didn't LIKE Gandalf like that!"

"I wasn't saying you did, Frodo. I was making a generalisation," replied the psychologist, tense this time. "Sit the FUCK DOWN!" The psychologist yelled (in his head.)

"Oh, ok. I'll go on. Anyway, I'll jump to when I destroyed the ring." Frodo wrung his hands together and crossed his legs. "There I was, standing on the pinnacle of mt doom, fighting with the invisible love of my life. Every touch drove me to ecstasy, and I must of came about 5 times in one sitting. Or standing, as it were. Anyway when he fell into the lava, I was so wracked with grief I dove in after him. (But the movie obviously portrayed it differently.) It turned out it wasn't lava, just thick bile from the stomach of a thousand trolls. It tasted horrible, but oh, to feel his hands twisted around mine, and to hear him screeching out "PRECIOUS! SHE IS LOST!" was magnificent. Sam thought I was dead, (Yeah, Sam came back _unfortunately_). The troll bile soon died down, and we somehow flowed into a forest even though we had been in the darkest, dankest pits of Mordor earlier. If you have beef with this, take it up with the author. I took this opportunity to tell Gollum how I felt, fiercely kissing him. I pushed him up against the tree, revelling in the tears which strewn his beautiful paper thin face. I held him down, pushing off my pants. He pretended to be horrified, screaming out "STOP! PLEASE! GOLLUM WANTS TO PLEASE MASTER BUT NOT LIKE THIS!" I giggled a little, enjoying how he was pretending. When I got my dick wet, it was euphoric. It was like pleasuring myself in an old balloon. Which coincidentally, I did at Bilbo's eleventy first birthday. I held his sinewy limbs down and showered him in kisses. I'm romantic, you know."

"Oh, naturally," answered the psychologist who was no longer listening.

"And that was our first sexual encounter. It was magical, Doc. It replays in my head like a movie. But I can't get him to return my calls, or even write back to my letters. What did I do wrong?"

The psychologist shook his head, and left.


End file.
